


A Thousand Years

by UndertheBloodMoon



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Children, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Homelessness, Memories, Memory Loss, Multi, Recovered Memories, Reunions, Running Away, Sick Character, Team as Family, Tears, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 12:47:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20966798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndertheBloodMoon/pseuds/UndertheBloodMoon
Summary: Vax'ildan Vessar loves Vox Machina. That is a fact that's known. He loves his sisters, his brothers, and his love. Which is why he gave his life to the Raven Queen to ensure his sister got to live. It's why he went with her so willingly when the time came, watching over them like a hawk and ready to lead them into the Afterlife with open arms once it was truly their time.Though, the Raven Queen has noticed her champion's despair as the years went on. Taking pity on the brave, kind soul, she found a way to give them both what they wished.Now Vax'ildan was on a mission to find all of his family once more. Though it's pretty difficult when you're now a child who doesn't know why he's searching for people, doesn't know a Vax'ildan or even what Vox Machina is. All he knows is that he's incomplete. And he'll travel all over Exandria to complete himself again.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic of this fandom so please be kind!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Raven Queen can seem cruel at times, but even the oldest of deities have some form of a heart. (Maybe except the ones that are literal pits of darkness.) 
> 
> Vax'ildan had been a worthy champion to her and it was about time he got the reward he deserved.

"They're looking well..."

Vax'ildan gazed down at the bustling town of Whitestone, where two of his loved ones were living the peaceful lives they deserve. Children with slightly tampered ears and bright eyes ran around their legs and enjoyed the blissful lives their parents never had. He was happy for his sister and brother. He was happy for his nieces and nephews. But not being there with them... Not teaching the children to throw knives behind Vex's back or parade around with them on his shoulders, showing off to the world that Vax'ildan was proud to be an uncle... It hurt. 

"Yes, my champion..."

He wanted to hate the Raven Queen for taking him away from them. He wanted to scorn her and spit venom whenever she spoke. But he couldn't. He was still was so grateful to her for allowing Vex'ahlia to live and be able to give life to these children. He almost feared if he didn't give his all to the goddess that she'd get angry and take it all away. Vex, the children, the happy ending Vox Machina had rightfully built for themselves. Vax couldn't let his own foolishness harm his family in that way. 

Yet being away from them hurt so badly. He saw that they've all moved on and healed the scars, but his wounds won't heal. It's like parts of his soul were torn from him, leaving a shivering, pathetic piece of it left that made up the now hollow shell of himself. He hated it. He wanted to be whole again. He wanted his sister's touch and Percy's know-it-all facts. He wanted Grog's food and ale covered beard and Keyleth's majestic glow when she controlled the weather. He wanted Pike's sweet laughter and Scanlan's dumb songs. Even Taryon's annoying mask of a rich boy who has it all. He wanted his family back. It was a painful yearning he forced himself to bear, but it burned brighter as time went on. 

"Come, Vax'ildan."

The former rogue turned to face the familiar face of his goddess. The mask was gone, as it usually was when it was just the two of them. She reached and stroked his cheek, her cool touch oddly soothing in a way that only he'd feel. 

"Your mind and heart have been so troubled as of late."

"I just miss them, your Grace. That is all."

"Yes..." The Raven Queen's eyes scanned his face, eyes piercing into his soul as they always seemed to do. "Then you should go to them."

"What?"

"This will stay," both pale hands came to hold the sides of his head, Vax unconsciously leaning into the touch. "Your form, your physical nature will remain. You'll be my champion still. But this..." her hands traveled down and sprawled out over his chest. "This will go. And find them once more. You will not be Vox Machina. But you will be with them nonetheless."

Vaxildan was silent. This seemed too good to be true. He'd be with his family again. With Freddie and Scan-man, Pickle, Kiki, Big Guy, and Stubby. The yearning turned to a throbbing ache that brought a stinging sensation to his eyes.

"I... You would..."

"Go," The Raven Queen grasped the feathers on his chest and _pulled_. 

He felt like he was harshly pulled forward. Her hands released him and he stared at her in confusion before he felt himself begin to shrink. And shrink. He felt his body morph, his skin and hair change. He turned to look at his Queen, desperate for an explanation, only to see an odd copy of himself. The features were blank, eyes dark and skin thinner and pulled more tightly against its bones. Its eyes seemed unseeing yet tracked him as he continued to shrink. It was him but... Not.

He looked up to the Raven Queen one last time before the black consumed him.

"Go now, my champion. Find them."


	2. One - Righting Wrongs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vax'ildan is no more. Now he is but a new young boy struggles with his memories and emotions, pained from the shriveled excuse of a soul the rogue-paladin had passed on to him. But he soon finds someone that starts to fill the painful void he's lived with for as long as he could remember.

Volodar was a miserable child. Once his infancy and toddlerhood began to fade and he became more aware of himself, more aware of sleep and the dreams that came with him, the smiles and giggles of a blissful baby faded into whimpers and tears, crying for girls named "Vec" and "Key-ith". He flinched away from touch and sat gripping his chest as though he was in pain. His parents had no clue what was making their precious baby so sad. But he was.

Everything was _wrong_ according to Volodar. Everything about him was wrong. He said his ears shouldn't be as pointy as they were, odd since he was an elf and his ears were perfectly fine. He said his hair shouldn't be the lovely golden color it was. As he got older and began to know how scissors worked, he cut it off angrily and wailed about it being _wrong_. He scratched at his skin, crying about it being different, that the warm color it was _wrong_ and should be paler. He scratched and hit his own eyes, saying their color was _wrong_. Everything about him was _wrong wrong wrong_. His parents were distressed, utterly helpless and slightly embarrassed by the fits their child would have.

Soon they had enough. They couldn't handle a kid who screamed and cried imaginary names and refused to call them 'Mom' or 'Dad'. They thought he was cursed or insane. They couldn't take it. Volodar knew they couldn't take it. So at the ripe age of six years old, he left. 

Volodar managed to travel far within a year. His heart drew him to a place called Emon or possibly Whitestone, places only spoke of in maps and books, but not quite from the mouths of those he grew up around. He figured Emon was too far away, so he went for the next best thing. Kymal.

His mind began to travel further within that year. Usually, his dreams would bring memories that would leave him waking up with only feelings of longing and aching loneliness. But now he began to remember more. He remembered a version of himself that felt _right_. He remembered a girl who looked like him and was also right. He remembered another girl with fiery red hair and beautiful eyes. A man with white hair and a know-it-all mouth that he both hated and loved. A looming figure who smelled of ale and blood but had a puppy-dog's face. Two smaller figures, one with a sad soul hidden behind cheerful tunes and another with a golden heart and the strength of a bull.

Volodar longed for these people with all his heart. He didn't question why he was an adult in those memories or why he wasn't with them or looking like himself anymore. He didn't care. He wanted them. He wanted his family. Not the elves with their noses lifted in the air, an odd and painful disdain for them having built in his chest for a long time. He wanted _this_ family. A family of _right_ with people who _felt_ right and _safe_. He just wishes he knew where they were.

He arrived there eventually, slightly glad to see civilization and slightly sad to leave the comfort of the woods. He managed to slip in past guards and others who would question what a dirty little elven boy was doing sneaking into the city on his own. 

Volodar kept his presence as hidden as he could. Stealing still came fairly easy to him, his smaller form and small hands were easily used to his advantage. He kept himself relatively fed and hidden, only dipping into the crowded market place when absolutely necessary. This day was absolutely necessary.

Keeping his head down, he shoved his way through the crowds, struggling to keep himself from being shoved over by the bigger bodies. He wasn't used to it. He was never this small when he had to stay hidden. He knew that much. His size felt weird and too close to the ground, but he managed and prayed every day that he'd get taller faster. 

The boy passed this one store that smelled of faint bread, possibly wrapped and stored on shelves or counters. The door was open to let in the cool breeze summer graciously provided sometimes. He peeked in and saw shelves packed with items, wondering which ones were worth stealing. He saw two figures standing at the front counter. One was an older boy and the other was a little girl. The guy seemed too young to be the girl's father, though they had similar looks, leading Vincent to just assume it was her brother. 

Volodar lingered outside the door for longer than he needed to. He watched the guy mutter something to the girl before walking off, disappearing behind the shelves, searching for something. The girl was left, rocking on her feet and twiddling her thumbs as she waited. She soon seemed to sense the eyes on her and looked up, meeting his gaze. His vision flashed as images played in front of them.

He remembered his body being right again, leading a girl only slightly shorter than him somewhere by the hand. She was nearly his exact copy, only clearly feminine. They were both young and she was grinning widely, her feet almost stumbling over each other to keep with his pace.

He remembered feeling weights lift from his chest as he seemed to leave Syngorn behind. History seems to repeat itself. He looked over to see the same smiling face, only a bit older, which was fine because he was older too.

He remembered waking up in the middle of the night to see her curled against a mass of brown fur and feeling only love and protectiveness. 

Flashes of places, faces and more went by, each one involving the same girl each time. And in his heart, he knew why.

Volodar ducked and stumbled into an alleyway next to the shop, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. His head hurt from all that and his heart was throbbing. He struggled to steady his breathing before hearing a small voice behind him.

"H... Hello...?"

Volodar couldn't take it anymore. He spun around, facing the little girl. The moment their eyes met, he knew her. Though her once pale skin was now as warm as his own and her braided black hair was now a loose light brown, he knew her. And she knew him. He could tell in the way tears sprung in her eyes and she let out a sad, choked noise, hands raising and closing like they wanted to reach for him but were too unsure to do so.

The words came out before Vol could even break down what they meant. "H... Hello, Stubby."

In a blur of movement, Volodar was curled on the ground with her small, sobbing body wrapped tightly in his arms. She'd pretty much thrown herself at him, burying her face in his dirty tunic and letting out cries that tore his heart to shreds. He'd curled himself around her to cushion her from the fall, protective instincts hitting him immediately as he held her close and let her bawl. 

Something about it felt... Good. Not her crying, no of course not, but the fact that she was able to cry and stain his shirt with tears and snot. She could lay there and hold him and be held by him for as long as she pleased and no one could stop her. There was no time limit, no outside force watching over their shoulder and rushing them, no threat to cut it short. It was just them, completely different yet exactly the same. 

Volodar may not be Vax, but this was still his Stubby. And this girl may not be the imaginary Vex Volly had been crying for since he was a toddler, but he was still her brother. 

Finally, for the first time, Volodar felt like something was _right_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The twins are together again! Hurray! Wonder who they'll meet next...


End file.
